My Husband Brought His Mistress Home のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

ANABEL’S POV He didn’t look like someone who was married, not in any way I could immediately tell, and I’d already been to his house once before, hadn’t I? I quickly ran back through the memory, searching for anything I might have missed. I didn’t remember seeing another woman there, nothing beyond the maids quietly moving through the halls, nothing that suggested another woman actually lived there with him. Granted, I hadn’t stepped foot into his main bedroom or seen the parts of the house that would have told me anything for certain. Maybe she simply hadn’t been around that day, wherever she was. Then again, considering the state I’d woken up in that morning, completely disoriented and barely able to piece together where I even was, I couldn’t exactly blame myself for missing something as important as another woman’s presence in the house. My mind hadn’t been in any condition to notice details like that. Still, he already knew everything about my situation, who I was married to a

ANABEL’S POVThe knock on my office door came later that afternoon, right around the time I’d finally started to settle into some kind of rhythm with the filing Priya had given me that morning. I looked up to find the same woman I’d seen briefly in the lobby a few days ago, the one who always seemed to be moving with purpose, a tablet tucked under one arm and an expression that gave absolutely nothing away. “Mrs. Wilson,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, the way people who clearly outranked me tended to do. “Do you have a moment?” “Of course,” I said, sitting up a little straighter in my chair, already bracing myself for whatever this was. New employees rarely got personal visits from someone who looked this important unless something had gone wrong. “You’ll need to set aside next week,” she said, glancing briefly at her tablet before looking back at me. “You’ll be attending the Black Tier Gala, accompanying the chairman.” I blinked, convinced for

ANABEL’S POV I adjusted my skirt for what had to be the third or fourth time, standing just outside the chairman’s office door, my hands smoothing down fabric that hadn’t actually wrinkled at all. It was straight, uncreased, perfectly fine, and yet some restless part of my brain kept insisting I check it again anyway, as though fidgeting with something I could actually control might distract me from everything I couldn’t. I’d barely slept the night before, if I was being honest with myself. I’d spent hours running through every possible version of this meeting in my head until the early hours of the morning, and none of them had actually prepared me for the reality of standing here now, my palms slightly damp and my heart beating faster than a routine meeting ever should. I kept telling myself this was probably nothing, just some standard formality every new hire eventually went through. But if that were true, I couldn’t explain why my whole body had felt like it was bracing for th

DMITRI’S POV"Well, I don’t just go around telling everyone I meet that I’m the chairman. If I did that, everyone would know who I am. So, once again, I’m sorry,” I said, the words coming out simpler than I’d actually planned, though I still meant them. “For not telling you sooner. I know that’s not much of an explanation, but I do mean it.” Even as I said it, some part of me recognized how strange the apology probably sounded coming from someone she barely knew. We weren’t close, not really, not yet. A handful of conversations, an elevator ride, one embarrassing night at a lounge she probably still cringed thinking about. There was no real obligation between us that required this kind of apology, and yet I found myself offering it anyway because withholding something this significant from her, even briefly, had sat uncomfortably with me since the moment I’d decided to keep it quiet. I’d genuinely expected more of a reaction from her, if I was honest with myself. Anger, maybe. Some

ANABEL’S POV The week that followed felt different in ways I hadn’t fully anticipated when I first walked out of Dmitri’s office that day. I’d told myself, lying awake that night and turning the whole situation over in my head, that I simply needed some distance to process everything, that a little professional distance made sense given how much had just been upended. What I hadn’t expected was how naturally that distance would settle into place once I actually returned to work, or how easily it seemed to reshape the entire dynamic between us without me ever fully deciding to let it. It started small. I stopped lingering near the lobby the way I used to on my way in each morning, no longer glancing around out of some quiet hope that I might run into him before my shift officially started. I took the stairs down to the records office instead of the elevator whenever I could manage it, telling myself it was simply good exercise, nothing more deliberate than that, even though some part